Meeting Place
by Steve the Icecube
Summary: Tony's boyfriend is a drug dealer. Tony wasn't always addicted, but, well...he doesn't like to think about it. Everyone thinks his perception of the events are off.
1. Chapter 1

'Hey sweetie' Tony smiled brightly down at the text message.

'Hi honey.' He texted back. Oh Bruce, always there in the middle of boring board meetings to cheer him up.

'Do you fancy a date tonight?'

'Sure. Meet you at Paddington?'

'7:30. I'll be there.'

'Great. Love you.'

'Love you too.' As Tony smiled down at his phone, Pepper kicked him under the table.

Pepper was his PA. She paid attention, Tony didn't. She knew Tony's secret. She knew never to disturb him in the evenings. She knew he'd be out or down in his workshop, doing science with his boyfriend while he was high.

"Tony," she whispered, leaning over the table, "stop planning dates during board meetings. You look like an idiot."

Tony looked at her disbelievingly and decided to talk to her later about how she frequently told him that he /was/ and idiot, and how frequently she told him to get off his arse, go to rehab and break up with Bruce.

No fucking chance of that happening.

Tony was loathe to admit it to anyone but Bruce, but he was in love. With a lot more than the cocaine that Bruce sold him.

Just for Pepper, though, he pretended to concentrate for the rest of the meeting.

*A*

"Hi." Tony said shyly, as he always did when he greeted Bruce.

"Hey." He said, saying nothing more before he moved on towards the Bakerloo line. They caught the first train to wherever it was going, and kept going until it stopped. They did this three more times, just enjoying the company of the other. They'd talk in the early hours of the morning, most likely at Tony's home, talking together to take their minds off of the crash they would both be going through. They couldn't really be affectionate with a train full of people around them, as any of the people could be homophobic.

They carried on doing this until there were very few people around, and all three people there had no means of contacting the police, Bruce had asked to borrow someone's phone, to call his sister to let her know he'd be late, but neither the young man nor the father with his daughter had a charged phone on them.

Tony and Bruce sat down at the edge of the carriage, out of direct sight of the three people in the carriage, though they had attracted several curious glances.

Bruce, without pausing or any hesitation at all, pulled the usual package of white powder out of his jacket pocket. The young blonde man made a mild noise of surprise, but realized that they had only just left the station and they were taking a train seventeen past midnight from the center of London to the Eastern outskirts of London, a trip that would take long over half an hour.

The father ignored them, just holding his daughter, who was maybe three, on his lap, bouncing her up and down slightly as she giggled.

Tony and Bruce split the contents of the package between them, and soon Tony could feel the joy bursting up inside of him, the high just starting to come into effect.

The sandy-haired father took one look at them and simply said, "You have problems."

"We do." Tony agreed.

"You do realize that I can report you, don't you?" The other man said.

"I do." Bruce said. "But there are plenty of brown-haired, somewhere between twenty and thirty year old men who deal this stuff." He indicated the empty pouch.

The young man glared at them, and Tony squinted slightly, his mind working at lightning speed. "Steve Rogers." He said. "You live at one of Tony Stark's blocks." He moved his eyes to the father and his red-headed daughter. "Clint Barton and Natasha. Same block."

"What the hell? Are you stalking us?" Clint asked, clutching Natasha tighter.

"I have a good memory." Tony said, shrugging. His face was disguised. No one had a chance of recognizing him. It was the only reason he even said their names. Well, and he was high. That contributed.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony stumbled into his mansion at seven in the morning, kicking his shoes off and dropping his coat on the floor. He was, of course, no stranger to all-nighters, but coming off a high often made him tired, and it always messed with the control he had over his body.

He dismissed the idea of his bedroom, though. Beds were boring. He instead headed down to his workshop, where the world's comfiest couch resided.

Pepper was there, and she glared at him as he descended the stairs to the basement/lab/workshop.

"Tony, I'm glad you're here." She said, smiling in a way that made Tony worry what she was going to say. "It's seven in the morning. JARVIS says you've been out for twelve hours."

"That I have." Tony said. "I went to Bruce's apartment for a bit." Pepper could hear the faint hint of a dreamy tone as Tony mentioned Bruce. She frowned.

"Tony, that's what I wanted to talk about. You need to quit."

"Quitting is for quitters." Tony said, shrugging. He was trying to keep his cool. Just get Pepper to go away. The argument would amount to nothing. It always did.

"Quitting is for sensible people, Tony. Cocaine is dangerous."

"So is being the PA of a billionaire. I don't see you quitting this job." Tony shot back.

"Okay, so you're not going to quit. But what about Bruce, Tony? Why are you with him after what he did?"

Tony glared at her. "Do you have a problem with love, Pepper?"

"I have no problem with love. You're not really in love with Bruce."

"Really? Then why do I do all the things that people who are in love do?" Tony knew what was coming. He knew the label. He was just goading Pepper into saying it. He wanted to hear someone say it.

"You have Stockholm Syndrome, Tony. You have to let someone help you. You just won't admit it in the first place."

"I don't have Stockholm Syndrome. I haven't been kidnapped for over a year, and those last ones were jerks."

"Tony, Bruce practically kidnapped you."

"He showed me, Pepper. He showed me what I'd been missing." Tony's voice was firm in his belief. "Now get out."

"No, Tony, you're the one who's leaving. I filed a report against your ownership of your houses. You're being cut off unless you go to rehab. If you don't leave then you'll be arrested."

*A*

Tony texted Bruce as he walked along. 'Pepper cut me off from my houses unless I go to rehab.'

'Come and stay with me.' Bruce texted back almost instantly, and a spark of relief ignited in Tony's chest.

'Thank you.'

'No problem. Love you.'

'Love you too.' So Tony headed back the way he came, his laptop bag on his back, his phone in his pocket, a rucksack with a few hastily packed clothes, and his wallet, and that was it. That was all he had. Pepper hadn't given him any more time.

At least someone in the world still loved him. Bruce peppered his face with kisses as he entered the flat, helped Tony set up his laptop next to Bruce's own, and shared the only bed, both of them tightly entangled as they slept.

No, it wasn't Stockholm Syndrome. Tony was sure.


End file.
